Review: November 2009

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Much has been written of late about the interaction between animals and humans at the boundaries of our cities, where tendrils of suburban development intrude ever farther into previously uninhabited forests and open fields. But the dynamic works the other way, too: wild animals have been moving deep into our cities at an accelerating pace. Peregrine falcons, for instance, now regard the ledges of skyscrapers, high-rises, and bridges as natural nesting places. And then, of course, there are crows, which have long regarded urban landscapes as fine places to carry on their business.

Naturalist and essayist Lyanda Lynn Haupt wants us to realize what the crows have known for so long: that “there is a continuum from a pure, undefiled wilderness to a trammeled, concrete industrial area,” and that “there is no place that the wild does not, in some small way, proclaim itself.” And so, through a series of well-crafted and perceptive meditations on urban crows, she invites us to see nature on the wing, right outside our townhouse doors.

Crows have adapted so well to our cities, of course, because they are among the cleverest of birds. Recent studies have classed their cognitive skills as comparable in many ways to those of apes. They seem to be able to reason causally, as when they poke holes in a plastic grocery bag to see whether there is food inside. One well-documented stratagem of urban crows worldwide is dropping nuts onto busy city streets so that cars will break the shells. In David Attenborough’s 1998 documentary The Life of Birds, crows in Tokyo can be seen taking the trick a step further. Realizing that the cars could flatten them as well as the acorns and chestnuts, those Japanese crows wait at curbside for the walk signal before hopping onto the pavement with the human pedestrians and strolling over to claim their bounty.

Haupt wants us to realize that crow behavior is no less remarkable in the city than it would be out in the woods. Much of the birds’ behavior, in any case, would be the same no matter where they lived. Following Haupt’s lead, we can watch crows raise their young in nests built in streetside or backyard trees (she cautions readers on how not to disturb them). If you observe from a distance you may be able to catch sight of the hatchlings as they learn to hang their little tails over the edge of the nest to avoid soiling the nursery. Later, you may be treated to the slapstick routines of the young as they learn to fly, jumping clumsily from the nests or nearby twigs—and sometimes crash landing on the pavement below.

According to Haupt, urbanites who love the wild should consider themselves fortunate, for the modern city is by no means a hermetic exclusion of nature. It is rather what she terms a zoöpolis, “an overlap of human and animal geographies,” where a keen-eyed and patient naturalist can find endless opportunities to stimulate the mind and feed the soul. That’s what the crows taught Lyanda Lynn Haupt, and that’s what her book can teach us all.